


Snitches and Boxes and Brooms, Oh my !

by hogwartshoney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottoming from the Top, First Time, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwartshoney/pseuds/hogwartshoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape never used to be a fan of Quidditch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snitches and Boxes and Brooms, Oh my !

**Author's Note:**

> Flagrantly disregards all things resembling an Epilogue.

Harry’s hand closes around the Snitch and the crowd goes wild, cheering and screaming and yelling. The whistle blows signalling the end of the match, and Harry’s team-mates swoop down on him even before he gets to the ground. They’re whooping and laughing and shouting just like him, and just like the crowd. The sky is alight with fireworks and not even the chilly December air is enough to lessen their jubilation.  
  
The one thing Harry loves more than competition matches is the Hogwarts alumni annual Boxing Day game he plays in the off season. Most of the former Hogwarts Quidditch team members show up, and half the fun of the tradition is the blind choosing method for team and playing position. Everyone puts their names go into a large bag and, with a fancy bit of spell work, names, teams and positions are revealed. Harry has played as Beater, Chaser and Seeker at various times over the years, but he always loved the thrill of Seeking.  
  
After changing in the locker room, still pumped high on success and adrenaline, Harry meets the rest of the players and the assembled crowd outside.   
  
“Just like the old days, eh, Harry?” Oliver Wood shouts, thumping him enthusiastically on the back.  
  
“Better than ever, Wood!” he replies, laughing. It’s almost a tradition, their little exchange, every year, whichever one wins or loses.  
  
“Great game, everyone. We’ll see you later?” shouts Arthur, Molly beaming on his arm.  
  
“Yes!” choruses the crowd. Ginny, Ron and Hermione, arms wrapped around each other, are doing a victory dance while Luna and Neville engage in deep conversation with George. Oliver and Angelina look rather cozy together and Harry vows to keep his eyes on those two. Seamus, Dean, Markus Flint and Cho make exaggerated flying motions with their arms, no doubt picking apart some of the game play.  
  
Harry shouts yes along with everyone and feels a great peace within himself, looking at his friends and taking a moment to simply be. He sighs happily.  
  
All is well.  
  
He slowly realizes that the dancing has stopped and all eyes are on him. Or, rather, all eyes seem to look beyond him with expressions ranging from discomfort to shocked surprise, and he can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.  
  
“Well, well.  _Mister_  Potter. Fancy bit of flying there, I imagine that you simply couldn’t wait to play with your balls.”  
  
 _That voice._  Harry’s stomach erupts in a flurry of nervousness.  _Snape?_  he mouthes looking at Ron, who just nods once, his lips forming the word ‘Yup’.  
  
He turns around to meet his nemesis who is - to Harry’s surprise - in the process of giving him the once-over. He feels a bit violated and a bit turned on, and he’s not certain whether he should be insulted by the words or flattered by the gaze.  
  
“Thanks, but actually, I rather prefer having a long hard piece of wood between my legs.  _Sir_ ,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.  
  
It amuses him to see the narrowing of Snape’s eyes and the slight flush in his cheeks as the others snicker, and Harry isn’t surprised to realize that his cock is more than a little interested in the proceedings. He’s saved from embarrassment by George and Luna who call Snape across and engage him in what looks like animated conversation, and that gives Harry the opportunity to get an eyeful of his former teacher.  
  
His hair is shorter and he stands taller, cutting a fine figure in dark Muggle clothes. Harry strains to hear the conversation, but can’t make out the words, only Snape’s pleasant baritone, and that in itself does delicious things to his insides. Snape! Back after all these years and looking damn good.  
  
“So, Snape, huh?” Ron asks softly, his voice very close to Harry‘s ear.  
  
Harry groans and mentally slaps himself for forgetting that one night, rather a long time ago, when he’d blurted out some…. stuff, about him and Snape and his attraction to the man. Ron had been predictably nonplussed, and Harry had been hard pressed to explain to his friend how hate could turn into intrigue into hero-worship tinged with just a bit of desire. Harry hates the idea of hero-worship; he feels uncomfortable when strangers come over to him, treating him as though he is public property, and even though he understands their need to see him, touch him and thank him, he still doesn’t really like it.  
  
He had needed to see Snape, to thank him and to touch him, and they had stood together in a moment limned in heavy silence, Harry with so much going on inside him and Snape not knowing any of it. Perhaps he had seen it Harry’s eyes or felt it in the desperation that Harry tried so hard not to show, but he had disappeared from the magical world almost six years ago, immediately after his post-war trial and pardon.  
  
Harry exhales, a long, eloquent huff of air. “When did he get back?”  
  
“Dunno, mate, although it couldn’t have been too long ago, or else Hermione would have told us. Oh, shite, he’s coming back over here. See you later.”  
  
Ron departs quickly and Harry is left feeling decidedly off-centre.  
  
“I see that the crowd has dispersed. Perhaps I could help you put those brooms back wherever brooms live, Potter.”  
  
“I- uh, sure, if you’d like. Thanks.”  
  
Harry is suddenly nervous to be alone with Snape, given the way he feels about the other man, and especially since the high of his victory still dances through his veins making him feel alive and a bit reckless. Snape carefully gathers a pile of brooms under his arm, and Harry checks to make sure that they are balanced properly before he picks up his own pile.  
  
“This way,” he motions with his head before setting off for the broom shed. The door is fairly narrow, and the handle is placed annoyingly low. He struggles to get the right angle to open it, muttering to himself that he really should have put the brooms down first.  
  
“Let me just-” Snape offers.  
  
“No, I can do it-”  
  
Harry feels the brooms beginning to slip from under his arm and he jostles them as he moves sideways and finally gets the latch on the door, but Snape is moving towards him as he swings the door open, and suddenly the brooms, Harry and Snape are all wedged awkwardly in the doorway. Harry opens his mouth to speak only to realize that Snape’s lips are parted and his eyes are focussed on  _Harry‘s_  lips, and before Harry even knows what he’s doing, before he’s pondered the insanity of his thoughts, he’s moving in for a kiss.  
  
For a moment, it’s just him kissing Snape, and in the next moment, brooms are clattering around their feet as Snape drops everything and latches on to Harry’s head and face, one hand in his hair and the other behind his neck as Snape plunders Harry’s mouth, teeth nipping, tongue probing, and despite the occasional clack of teeth, it’s incredible.  
  
It’s over much too soon, and as they draw apart, breathing heavily, Harry touches his fingers to his lips, stunned that the fantasy has come so quickly to reality. One look at Snape tells him that the other man is just as affected. Suddenly, Harry wants more.  
  
“Let’s go somewhere-” he urges, stepping closer to Snape.  
  
“No, here. It needs to be here. Now.“  
  
And then Snape is on him again, kissing and sucking at his neck, and Harry’s afraid he’ll come right there in the damn broom shed, but then Snape jerks away and pauses, like an animal scenting a predator. Harry’s too aroused and confused for a moment to realize what Snape hears, and then, in the distance, faintly…  
  
“Harryyyyyy. You check the field, George, and I’ll check in the broom shed.”  
  
Dammit! Harry has lost track of time, and the others have come looking for him. Snape drills him with a look and Disapparates without a sound.  
  


* * *

  
  
_“Actually, I rather prefer having a long hard piece of wood between my legs.”  
  
An arched eyebrow.  
  
 **“Sir”**    
  
“Is that so,“ Snape purrs, pinning Harry with his gaze as he moves closer, Harry, unable to break eye contact, moans softly as his cock springs fully to life, straining against his clothes. Snape is on him in seconds, and his body arches into the firm grip as Snape holds him tightly and kisses him possessively, his thigh pressing between Harry’s legs and against his cock, the friction almost enough to make him come…_  
  
Harry comes awake, panting, heart thudding, his entire body on the very edge of arousal, and he doesn’t think twice before thrusting his hand into his pyjama bottoms and taking a firm grip on himself. Two pumps is all it takes and he’s filling his hand, emptying himself with long, shuddering gasps.  
  
He cleans himself with a quick charm and sits on the side of the bed, his head in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair.  
  
He hasn’t seen nor heard from Snape since the match last week. Not that he really expected flowers or love notes, but after what they’d done…  
  
He lies back in bed and mulls over his dream, his body already lax with impending sleep, and he decides that if Snape wants him, as an ex-Spy, he’d be able to find him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Dumbledore’s private box, set high in the stands of the Quidditch World Cup stadium, is under formidable Notice Me Not and Silencing spells. Harry feels the enchantments the moment he steps through the door, and he appreciates that level of anonymity; otherwise his Quidditch-watching days would pretty much be over, and he’s very interested in this match, the first of the season.  
  
“That’s a ridiculous disguise, Potter.”  
  
Harry clears his throat to hide his surprise as he removes his glamour.  
  
“Snape? What are you doing here?”  
  
“I’m here for the game, obviously.”  
  
“This is Dumbledore’s box. It‘s private.”  
  
“It’s good to see that nothing gets by you.”  
  
“I have tickets from Dumbledore’s portrait to sit here for this game.”  
  
“As do I!”  
  
“When?”  
  
“This past week. You?”  
  
“Same…”  
  
“…”  
  
“What kind of-”  
  
“That meddling old-”  
  
After a moment of silence.  
  
“Well I’m staying.” Harry tries to keep the petulant tone out of his words; after all, Snape is the one who left  _him_  in the broom shed with a massive erection and no explanation.  
  
“So am I.”  
  
“Budge over then.”  
  
“There‘s no room in here, Potter. I suggest you go elsewhere.”  
  
“There will be room if you move OVER.”  
  
“Why not just sit on my lap, Potter.”  
  
Harry splutters indignantly. His cock is not helping matters, of course, the bastard, but at least he’s wearing loose-fitting robes, all the better to hide his erection until he has time to take care of it.  _Poor choice of words, Potter, *very* poor choice_  since that’s only made him harder still and more aware than ever that the object of his night-time dreams and cause of his copious emissions is sitting not two feet away.  
  
Well, there’s nothing for it. Snape doesn’t seem inclined to move, so Harry clambers awkwardly over his legs and he’s almost certain that the man makes it more difficult than necessary. Predictably, he stumbles and falls, and even though he grabs valiantly at the railing, he ends up sprawled over Snape’s lap while large hands steady him. He jumps up quickly, full of apologies and yet fairly certain that he felt an impressive erection beneath his arse.  
  
Finally he’s past the tangle of long legs and large shoes and sits with a sigh. He chances a sideways glance; Snape sits ramrod-stiff beside him and Harry can’t help but be aware of the fact that he is *not* looking at him; in fact, he’s looking everywhere else but at Harry.  
  
Harry is hyper-aware of Severus all throughout the initial stages of the match, of the way his ankles are crossed and the way his long lean legs look even more so in the slim-fitting black trousers and the way Severus’ hand rests on the cushion between them.  
  
Harry could lean back too, could adopt a similar body position and have  _his_  hand on the cushion as well. His stomach flutters madly and he feels like he’s fourteen again and about to kiss Cho, only … that didn’t turn out so well in the end, did it? No. No, better not think of Cho. Best to think of the one kiss he  _did_  share with Snape.  
  
It feels…. exciting, and perhaps the slightest bit forbidden, he a former student and Snape a former teacher, even though they’re both adults now, but before he can take that thought through to its logical ending, the crowd roars and Snape shifts to his right, twisting his body away from Harry while following the players very closely. Harry looks up, realizing that he’s been so involved in his own thoughts that he’s ignored most of the game play. The Harpies are poised to score while both Seekers streak valiantly for the Snitch, and they fly past the box at incredible speed, neck and neck towards the small golden ball, closer, closer…  
  
And it disappears.   
  
The crowd gasps a mingled chorus of groans and cheers, and Snape settles back next to Harry, only now their hands are actually touching. Surprise and pleasure and nervousness bubble up in Harry’s gut; he wants to be doing this but he doesn’t want to seem too eager, but, Merlin, he  _is_  eager, almost too eager, and Snape has made his first move and Harry realizes that it’s been entirely too long since first contact and he hasn’t said anything and suddenly it’s not warm anymore but a bit tense and perhaps Shape is waiting for Harry to do something only Harry doesn’t really know what to do since it’s… well, it’s Snape.  
  
And he’s nervous.  
  
But he grabs hold of his Gryffindor courage and places his hand over Snape‘s.  
  
And waits.  
  
For what feels like an eternity.  
  
Until finally,  _finally_ , Snape spreads his fingers and entwines them with Harry’s.  
  
A bolt of sensation streaks through Harry’s body and he realizes that he’s half hard, sitting in Dumbledore’s box and holding hands with Severus Snape.  
  
“Those Seekers can’t fly like you.”  
  
Such a simple statement, yet it holds so much meaning. Harry’s stomach does ridiculous flippy-things that feel not unlike a Wronski Feint, only without his having any control over the outcome. It’s dizzying, and he squeezes Snape‘s fingers.  
  
“Why did you leave that night, after the match, when we-?”  
  
“I- Look, Potter, I did not wish to be set upon by a gang of former students, nor did I wish to seem like one of those people who just wanted a piece of you.”  
  
"I was hoping…" Harry feels his face heat.  _Am I really going to say this?_  "I was hoping that you  _did_ , uh, want me." He can’t help squirming in his seat, and his cock is really not helping matters. "Because I, uh, I want you.”  
  
Snape raises a most eloquent eyebrow and Harry really wants to shag the man.  
  
“Eloquent as ever.” he murmurs. “And what do you plan to do with me if we both get what we want?”  
  
“I want to ride you”  
  
“What do you mean, here?”  
  
“Right here, while the match is still on.”  
  
“There’s not enough-” Severus waves his hand to encompass the box. “This is hardly conducive for sex!”  
  
“It’s exciting! Nobody can see us, and you can put up more spells if you need to.”  
  
With a wave of his hand, Severus puts up a layer of spells so strong that they crackle and hiss against the existing enchantments.  
  
Harry shivers at the show of magical power and feels as though he’s in a dream, albeit a good one. He grins as he reaches out to unbutton the cuffs of Snape’s shirt. “I wonder if this is what Dumbledore meant when he said that I should go to the match, use his box and enjoy the experience.”  
  
“Oh, is that what he told you?” Severus murmurs as Harry runs his hands up his forearms.  
  
“Yes. Why, did he mention anything to you?” Harry is, admittedly, a bit distracted by all the flesh he’s uncovering and isn’t really following the conversation too closely.  
  
“Not exactly, he only said that he hoped that my being at the match would prove… successful.” Suddenly he stops, grabbing Harry by both arms. “Why, that  _meddling_  old-”  
  
Harry moves closer to Severus, so close that he can see his own reflection in the man’s eyes.  
  
“Perhaps he’s not really meddling.”  
  
Severus’ expression is at once covetous and contemplative, and he looks at Harry carefully. Harry shivers - it’s an oddly arousing experience to be scrutinized so closely, as though he were being contemplated for dinner.  
  
After a long moment, his eyes soften. ‘No, I suppose it’s not… not really.”  
  
“I always wondered where our first time would be,” Harry says as he reaches out to unbutton Snape’s shirt.  
  
“You thought about it?”  
  
“All the time after the war, after you’d left,” Harry says nervously as he slides his hand beneath the fabric of Snape’s shirt and along his skin. He finds Snape‘s nipples and scratches one, delighting in the way it hardens and puckers.  
  
“You’re still- _ah!_  careful. You’re still young.” Severus’ abdominal muscles twitch as Harry trails his fingertips down them, down towards the waistband of Severus’ trousers.  
  
“Sorry. And I’m not  _that_  young anymore,” he murmurs as he frees Severus’ cock from the confines of his clothes.. “and now… I’m impressed!”  
  
The sight alone makes Harry’s cock twitch. He’s seen cocks before - he’s not dead, after all - but Severus’ cock is his wank fantasy’s wank fantasy. It’s a good length, thicker at the base with a nicely flared head, definitely firm, and the bollocks rest heavy in his hands.  
  
And suddenly this is less about getting it done than about doing it right. Severus is certainly fired up and ready to go, if his cock is anything to go by. Harry’s arse twitches in anticipation as he takes a deep breath to calm himself. He doesn’t want to end things before they begin.  
  
He Banishes his trousers and pants, and he’s just grateful that he hasn’t Banished his bollocks along with everything else, the way his wand is shaking. He casts another spell to stretch and lubricate himself while Snape conjures lube with his own wand. After watching in fascination as Snape slicks his cock carefully, he realizes that Snape has stopped and is looking at him a bit uneasily.  
  
“This is very public…”  
  
“We don’t have to get undressed. Just lift my robes at the back and I can sit on you.”  
  
Snape nods as he complies, and Harry shivers as cold hands run up the back of his legs, taking the folds of the robes with them, and then they hold him steady as he straddles Snape’s legs and sinks down slowly, relaxing and pushing down slightly to accommodate Snape’s cock-head. It pushes through the ring of muscle and Harry moans, he can’t help it, feeling every delicious inch of burn and slide as he lowers himself gradually, inch by inch until he’s fully seated onto Severus’ cock. His body trembles with the effort, but thankfully, Snape doesn’t move, doesn’t buck up into him, but just waits there. Harry can almost hear the man’s teeth clenching behind him.  
  
Harry pauses to let his body adjust to the widened girth and leans back to whisper along the shell of Severus’ ear, delighting in the way it makes the other man shiver.  
  
“Eventually, I’ll wanna do this both ways.”  
  
Even more gratifying is the softly groaned exhale of breath.  
  
“I am not opposed to that at all.”  
  
“Good.” Harry starts to move slowly, sliding up and then down onto Snape’s cock, each time pulling up a little further and then rocking his body’s weight backwards to seat himself. Their rhythm is a bit off and Snape’s hands alternate between gripping his hips tightly and running along his stomach and chest, and occasionally bumping against Harry’s erection.  
  
Snape startles every time, as though he’s surprised, but after the third time, Harry takes Snape’s hand and places it around his cock, moving it up and down the shaft and spreading the precome over the head amid soft moans of pleasure. Snape turns out to be a quick study and is soon wanking Harry in time with his thrusts.  
  
Harry leans forward, bracing his hands on Snape’s knees and starts fucking himself in earnest, circling his hips to take Snape’s cock deeper.   
Snape scratches at one of Harry’s nipples as he works Harry’s cock in time with his rhythm, and Harry clenches around Snape‘s cock inside him.  
  
“Oh, oh  _fuck_  yes! Oh, god, more!”  
  
“Too… many… clothes,” Snape grunts behind him. “Can’t-” and with little more than a panted spell, Harry is completely naked.  
  
“Oh, yes, better!” he gasps, and then Harry picks up the pace, fucking both of them, and Snape’s hands are everywhere, grasping, holding, scraping, and he hisses Harry’s name repeatedly as Harry moans incoherently, all of it bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Snape wraps one arm around Harry’s chest, pulling him back against his own as he spreads his legs wide, and Harry is opened even further, the change in angle and pressure driving Snape’s cock even deeper. Harry cries out at the impossible fullness, the back of his head on Snape’s shoulder, and he turns to catch Snape’s mouth in an awkward sideways kiss and Snape is all tongue and wanking him even faster and fuck!  
  
Harry’s orgasm is almost crippling as it explodes out of him with such force, and he moans loudly, helpless as his body shudders and shudders in wave after wave of pleasure. He feels the pulses inside him as Severus spends himself, the rhythmic hiss of breath behind him the only sound other than their laboured breathing.  
  
Harry pulls slowly off of Severus’ softening cock, his legs burning from the activity, and he collapses on the cushion next to Severus. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he glances over to where Severus is looking at him with something close to wonder.  
  
“Merlin, Potter, I never took you for a noisy fuck.”  
  
Harry laughs as he performs cleaning charms over them. “I’m pretty sure it got lost in the crowd‘s cheering.”  
  
“I’ll never look at Quidditch the same way again,” Severus says as he leans in to kiss Harry deeply.  
  
Their kiss is long and thorough, and when they finally pull apart, Harry’s cock is almost ready for another round.  
  
“Nor will I.”  
  
**end**


End file.
